


Sam And Dean - Heavenly Soulmates - The Slow Path.

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Curtain Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 09:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10614294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: "Sam & Dean - heavenly soulmates"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spnspiration's aprilfools challenge. Huge thanks goes to stir_of_echoes who held my hand, gave me feedback that I knew was invaluable and allowed me the space to play with a prompt that I wanted so badly to write. Also, to wings128 who gave me a small nudge in the right direction ♥ No spoilers for show passed the end of season 9. (Thank you blackrabbit42 for asking and reminding me to mention it)

__**"Think we will?"  
** "What?"  
"Die before we get old."  
"Haven't we both already?" 

Turns out, no.

Well, **yes** , _several times_ , but biting the final big one for Sam and Dean Winchester doesn't actually involve an overzealous hunter with a sawn off, or a douche-bag Angel with a God complex.

Much to their own surprise and consternation, especially Dean's because the word **cute** still brings him out in hives, they are in fact extremely cute old bastards.

Sam with his wispy hippy like hair; all silver and fly away, so soft it's like petting a newborn kitten, curled around his ears and brushing the back of his crooked shoulders, equally as crooked grin making Dean's heart skip a beat.

At his time of life that could be considered bloody dangerous, but he doesn't care. If he goes out with the image of Sam's sunshine smile burned into the backs of his retinas, he'll consider it a win.

Dean doesn't look much different in his twilight years than he did when they were running around the country trying to save the world from unspeakable evil; back a little more bent, hair a lot more washed through with grey.

His only concession to the aging process; he's stopped drinking every meal, and that's only because Sam started drawing lines on his whiskey bottles.

"Seriously man, it's like having a babysitter, do you have to do that?!" "Look buddy, it's taken me this long to get you to slow down, I'm not losing you to liver failure."  
"Fine, but if I want to go out for a beer, you ain't gonna stop me, especially not on those rickety old pins of yours!" 

If someone were to pin Dean down and ask him outright, "What's it like, being old? settling down?!" He'd swear up and down he was bored silly, because it doesn't do to have one of the worlds most feared hunters admitting that life in the slow lane with Sammy by his side is a lot more fun than watching a Djinn bleed blue goo across a warehouse floor.

But in all honesty, he's been craving this lifestyle since before he knew what to call it. All those years fighting for their lives and never really having a reason to keep on keeping on, it took it's toll and eventually he realised he needed _more_.

More time with Sam, more home cooked meals, more bad telly, more laughs that weren't born out of the need to smile in the face of death and destruction.

More of the 'him' he could be not the 'him' he had to be in order to continue scratching and clawing their way towards the light.

Sam was always so up front with his dream of finally finding a place to call home, for the both of them, that when the time came and he _could_ plant his marker, the moment completely passed him by.

He awoke one day to _familiar_ sounds of neighbours mowing lawns and children playing in the street and it hit him flat in the chest like an open palmed punch, "Shit, when did that happen?"

After the sudden realisation that they were indeed 'living' the dream, **his** dream, he allowed himself to melt into the shared experiences of strip poker on a Thursday night because they'd had too much beer and not a whole lot else to do, the morning routine of taking turns making a breakfast that could clog an artery from a hundred paces.

All the minutia of a life lived, if not well, then with appreciation and participation. No more hiding on the fringes for either of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

With _the_ green cooler nestled snuggly between their creaky lawn chairs, Sam and Dean watch the world wander by at a sedate pace whilst shooting the shit, grinning and shaking their heads at passed exploits than no longer hold a any kind of heavy darkness for them.

It's taken a good few decades but finally they can remember those long gone, and enjoy the memories, take comfort in the blurry faces of loved ones no longer walking beside them.

Dean watches Sam, head thrown back, silver hair blowing gently in the warm early evening breeze, and he thinks that as retirements go, this ain't bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A thin layer of gossamer perspective hangs between the Winchesters and their ever present watchful guard.

Castiel hasn't visited with them for a long time now, he finds it much more enlightening and joyous just to surround himself with the sound of their merriment without the hindrance of a real presence in their life.

He knows they think of him, talk of him often, but he's content to allow them their final years alone, knowing that once they eventually do come 'home' he will be able to walk with them once again.

As Sam laughs, as Dean tracks the progress of his brother's lightening hair and increasing smile lines, Castiel closes his eyes and remembers why it is he's come to say a silent hello.

Earlier this very day, he signed off on the last pieces of paperwork that will allow Sam and Dean their time together, even after they leave the chaos of Earth behind.

Their 'after' will not only be filled with peace, and light, and family and friends, but it will be filled with each other. No two men have earned the right to continue an existence as one like the two sitting before him, and he is proud to be the barer of such glad news, even if it will take him another few years to be able to tell them they don't have to worry about being separated ever again.

It started with Cain and Abel, it almost finished with Mary and John, and it could so easily have perished in the flames of God's abandonment of the Angels, but Castiel was never going to allow anything to remove the Winchester's reward for staying the course, for fighting against everything that came crashing down around them, year after year.

A shared Heaven is the very least that these men are owed, and it is his privilege to be the one to make sure that they keep that marker open.

Nodding once to each brother, allowing a small self indulgent smile to settle upon his lips, he steps away from their world and back into his own, "See you later boys, see you much later."


End file.
